


Forever and Ever, Amen

by fits_in_frames



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third time Richard is summoned, it's raining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever and Ever, Amen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle IX ([original comment](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/25077.html?thread=2609141#cmt2609141)). Spoilers through "The Incident".

The third time Richard is summoned, it's raining.

He ducks inside the passage below the monument to Taweret. He feels the confidence drain out of him with every unnecessarily loud step. Jacob looks up the moment he comes out the other end of the passage, smiling warmly.

"Hello, Ricardus."

It's only then that he realizes how long it's been since they've spoken directly. It does a little to ease the tightness in his chest. "They're calling me Richard now."

Jacob is suddenly at his side. "Of course," he says, still smiling. He slides a hand smoothly across his back. "You're all wet," he says almost stupidly, then gestures into the spacious room in front of them. "Please, come in."

He stands awkwardly for a moment as Jacob mills about in his dwelling, gathering up something for them to sit on, a ceramic cup that he pours some tea into. He hangs the pot on a makeshift hook over the fire. It's temporary, and just for Richard, of course: Jacob doesn't drink tea. He hands over the cup, and points to the other side of the fire.

"Sit with me," Jacob says, and they both come to rest on a pile of something that could be fur, but feels more like human hair. Richard says nothing of it.

"Thank you," he murmurs into his cup, and pretends to drink some of the tea. It smells heavenly, but really, he's just happy to be warm.

Jacob leans back, just watching, and when their eyes meet, he smiles a little wider, squinting his eyes just slightly. "Do you know why I wanted to see you?"

Richard puts the cup down. "No." His voice quavers a little on the single syllable, and Jacob notices.

"Don't worry," Jacob says, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, "I'm not going to take it away." He squeezes a little. "Not unless you give me a reason."

Richard swallows, nods.

Jacob stands, pushing up on Richard's shoulder for leverage. Pacing towards the far wall, he says, "There's a storm coming."

"There's a storm here already," Richard says without thinking, and his next breath hovers in his throat.

Jacob turns slowly, pressing his lips together in amusement. "I meant a metaphorical storm." He pauses, takes a single step back towards the fire, raises his eyebrows. "A war."

Richard has picked up the tea again and taken a small sip. It's too hot, just as he suspected. He swallows. "When?"

Jacob looks away, bobs his head a little. "Soon."

"Forgive me," Richard says, tactful this time, standing up, setting the cup down at his feet and walking away from it, "but you and I have a different concept of time than most of the others on this island, so when you say soon, you mean--"

"You're not going to tell them," Jacob cuts in, "so 'soon' will work for our purposes."

"If you don't need me to deliver a message, why are you telling me?" He stands close to Jacob, hands on his hips.

"Because I need to know," Jacob says, moving to close the distance between them, "if you're on my side."

He studies Jacob's face for a moment, lets one arm drop from his waist. "Do I really have a choice?"

Jacob cups his neck with his hand. He looks directly into Richard's eyes when he says, "I made you like this because you were special. And you're right, I could snap my fingers--" he does so, and Richard winces "--and turn you to dust." He leans in, whispers in Richard's ear. "But I don't want to. Because you _are_ special." Richard turns to him and he backs off a little. "You _always_ have a choice."

There's a moment--a long, heavy moment--where nothing happens, and then his eyes flick down to Jacob's barely-parted lips. Jacob narrows his eyes knowingly, bemusedly, and kisses him first, softly, chastely.

It's been such a long time--so long that he can hardly wrap his head around the mere idea of it--since he's kissed or been kissed, touched or been touched, that he feels his body go slightly limp, barely held together by his joints, mostly held up by Jacob's stealthy hand on his waist that replaced his own when he wasn't paying attention. He hadn't realized how close they were to the outer wall until now--now, pressed between it and him, or maybe him and it, or maybe just him. Jacob is still a mystery, even after all these years, but solving that mystery is low on Richard's list of priorities right now: there's a knee between his legs and a hand on the small of his back, slipping down below his waistband and he can barely breathe. Richard surges forward as Jacob pulls away, gripping his bottom lip between his teeth. Jacob wins, though, and grins mischievously before moving that hand from the back of his trousers to the front, flicking open the button and cupping him with one smooth motion, sending a white-hot sensation up his spine.

Such a long time, he thinks, such a very, very long time.

Chest pressed together, mouths interlocked, knees buckling slightly, Jacob wraps his lithe fingers around Richard's erection, and starts to stroke.

Richard tilts his head back, breaking away from a particularly wet kiss. He starts to gasp, _God_ , but before he can, before he can even open his eyes, Jacob has swallowed it up.

After a moment, a minute, an hour, he doesn't know, their mouths break apart for the last time as Jacob moves on to the patch of skin in front of Richard's ear, nipping at it gently, all the while stroking, stroking, stroking. And he whispers, hot and sharp, "I made you what you are, Ricardus. You're nothing without me."

Richard groans, involuntarily, and arches up into Jacob's hand. Jacob squeezes, just a little, just enough so he can't come.

"Please," he breathes. "Please don't--"

"I want to hear you say it," Jacob whispers. When Richard says nothing, he squeezes again. And this time, it's harsh and pointed: "Say it."

He turns his head slightly to Jacob, feels his jaw shaking with need. "You made me what I am," he whispers. "Without I'm--" He catches Jacob's eye, and there's something dark and inhuman about them; he blinks and it's gone.

He finishes once: "Without you, I'm dust in the wind."

And twice: into Jacob's warm hand, bracing himself against the wall, barely making a sound. He feels Jacob extract his hand and walk away, and it's wholly unsatisfying.

When he recovers a few minutes (hours, days) later, when he feels the swell of confidence return to his limbs, he cleans himself up and starts for the exit. And then he remembers: he was asked a question.

"I'm on your side," he says to Jacob's back.

Jacob turns his head just enough so Richard can see him nod. "I know."

He leaves without another word passing between them.

(As he walks through the passage again, hearing the rain come closer and closer, he wonders if he really meant it, or if he just doesn't want to know how lonely eternity could be by himself.)


End file.
